The Stem of an Ivy
by CoyKit
Summary: In a village of southern France was a man whose purpose was to teach a blushing bride the night before her wedding about satisfying husbands. Living a life of self-torment... Can a little blind girl show him the light? Even if she can't see it?


In a town deep within southern France... lived a legend... the legend of Ivy and her Flame, her Pyre.

It is told that if you separate an Ivy leaf from it's stem... then ignite it... you'll hear their story in the wind that wraps the smoke around you like a snake from the grass..

The story starts long ago... a date since forgotten in a land unknown. A village in the valley that withheld a scandal. When girls became of marrying age (within their fifteenth and sixteenth annual) they were betrothed... willingly of course... with consent within both families. A girl was kept physically innocent and mentally naive until the eve of her wedding. Upon which, her father would take her to the 'house'.

Home of Pyre Nates. The village's male courter.

He would teach the girls all they needed to know about pleasing their husbands the next night.  
The girls would come as children.  
The girls would leave as women.

Pyre had been atop that hill for ten annuals now. Bedding each maiden that was brought to him, with the payment their fathers issued him previously.

He treated the girls with the utmost respect. Pyre was all the gentleman. He never forced himself on them... He let them ease up to him. Let them accustom themselves within his home... his face... his body...

Pyre had been hired into seducing these young women and as a result, he lived within himself. Barely leaving his abode for anything short of necessity. Never able to let himself wonder outside in the sunlight of the grassy meadows without a purpose. He was to dark for that... He thought himself a creature of the night... a demon of the underworld. Only able to live in sin. Only ever able to look at sin. Never to be graced with the beautiful sunlight upon his face... or the gentle caress of the wind. Only the dankness of his hollow home.

An arriving night unlike any other, Pyre had to get the ingredients for his appointment tonight. Another maiden scheduled to appear at his door. Just as Pyre braced himself for the trip into the village he heard something outside of his walls. A noise... Not an unpleasant noise, mind you... but a sort of song... 'It can't be that of a bird...' He thought inquisitively.

He strolled to his window, his eyes struggling to glance out in the darting glow of the afternoon, expecting to see a finch bravely contradicting his suspicions and innocently singing it's tune.

And yet, Pyre saw instead a girl. A girl of fair skin and pale hair holding a basket of flowers as she twirled in circles just around his cherry blossom tree. Pyre watched as the petals of the tree landed themselves in her hair, a striking pink to her silvery-yellow, and yet she seemed not to notice.

There was something disturbing about the way he unconsciously gripped his hands on the window-sill. His mind told him the emotion was fury and sent him into defense mode.

As if irritation was ignited within him, Pyre stormed through his house and out his door.

"You there! What do you think you're doing on my hill? What is your purpose, mademoiselle?" He barked at the girl.

Alarmed, she turned to his voice, dropping her basket to the ground and spilling the flowers from it.

"I-I'm quite sorry, sir!" She stammered. "I meant not to wonder this far past the village. I wasn't of wares that I was on your land, sir." She squeaked, falling to the ground and roaming her hand over the flowers, trying to delicately put them back into place.

Guilt seeped through him like poisonous sap from a tree.  
Realizing that his temper flare was unneeded, Pyre knelt to help her readjust the petals into the basket.

"How do you mean to say that you didn't know where you were going, mademoiselle? Did you not notice the limits of the town? Do you not know the edge of the village, silly girl?" He questioned as, he lifted the rose from her hand and put it in the basket.

Without words the girl raised her face to him.

With jaw dropped, Pyre noticed her eyes. They were as pale blue as the moon. They were unseeing.

"I'm-I'm sorry." He stuttered, distracted from all else as he looked at her seemingly lifeless eyes.

Her lips parted slowly as if invisible strings were pulling them... into a smile.

Pyre's throat felt like it was tightening... an odd sensation. In his exaggerated minds eye, he saw himself buckle to the ground as he was suffocating. This little nymph stealing the breath from him. It took her saying something to bring him back to the reality of the moment.

"Tis' my fault. I should have been paying more attention to my wondering feet, sir." she established as she pushed of from the ground and made to stand.

Pyre stood as well and gently pushed the basket into her hand, watching her brittle fingers wrap around the handle.

"I am no _sir_!" he joked in an mock-offended tone. "Sir is how you should address an elder... not a man of barely thirty annuals... My name, milady, is Pyre." He said taking her non-occupied hand and placing a soft kiss to the back of it.

That smile of hers returned as her cheeks were graced with blush.

"Ivy." She returned with a curtsy.

The awkward way she pulled at her dress made Pyre have another sensation... a sort of fluttering in his stomach... He couldn't help but smile at the deliriousness of it all.

"Well lost-lady Ivy..." He offered his arm to her. Yet in remembering she couldn't see it... he took her hand and tucked it withing the nape of his elbow. "Shall I escort you home?" He asked in a polite tone. Her reaction to him manipulating her hand was that of hesitation... But him asking to take her home put her a little on ease. Could she really trust this strange man to take her home? Could she really trust this man with the knowledge of where her home was?

Realizing she didn't really know where she was regardless... "You may, good sir... erm... Pyre" She corrected, smiling up at him.

As they walked, Pyre learned that she lived beside the church with her parents who have raised her for twelve annuals. The news of her age got him a bit off guard... Stumbling a bit, he asked her in shock if she meant twenty... She giggled at his question and assured him she was but twelve. Blushing, Pyre realized her laughter was compensation enough for the embarrassment Pyre felt at his assumption of her age.

He also learned that her father owned the bakery in the village. His name was Andre' Fournier and that he has recently got into some trouble with the village's elder about his bakery not making enough profit.

"I'm sure your father will be prosperous, from what I've heard on the streets, He's a delightful baker." Pyre gave her hand a reassuring squeeze.

"Yes, well, papa lives for that store. I know not what he would do without it." Noticing the somber look that took away from her splendorous smile... he knew he had to rectify it. "Have you ever been to the circus, Ivy? The one that visits the village during the summer." Pyre prodded gently.

"Oh, yes!" She exclaimed as they arrived in town. "It's wonderful, it is... all the people! All the scents and the sounds! Oh, it is absolutely glorious." She swooned. "You know!" She whispered excitingly. "I even heard a lion roar once when I was little! Can you believe that, Sir Pyre? A real lion!" Her face seemed to glow with the effect this circus had on her.

Pyre fed off her excitement. He could feel the adrenaline coursing through her veins. Again his mind manipulated the moment, he saw his heart pumping, erratically. So fast from the accelerated rate of his blood. He imagined the heart of his bursting through his chest and landing in Ivy's tiny hands as she crushed and desecrated it, with an innocent smile on her supple face.

He pulled himself out of his mind in time to notice Ivy stop short, Looking skyward for a moment. Pyre watched her as the church bells tolled beside them. Ivy's head lolled back and forth with each toll. She counted seven of them.

"Oh dear! It's late! Papa will soon be home from the shop." She was frantic as she pulled Pyre with her. Stumbling through the ally ways and the stands of the village. They only had about an acre to run as Ivy stalled at what Pyre concluded to be her door.

Slightly out of breath Ivy took her hand from his and touched his shoulder... then trailed her hand to his face, Nudging it softly with her fingertips.  
"Thank you kindly... for walking me home."

"No--" Pyre's voice squeaked uncomfortably. Ivy smiled. Clearing his throat, Pyre started again. "No problem at all." He then enclosed his hand over hers. Ivy gratefully tugged at his hand as she walked through her door.

Pyre stood smiling for a good... minute. Hardly acknowledging the muscles in his face becoming sore. In time, the church doors slammed shut as the bell ringer left the building, the sound bringing Pyre back from the clouds. Shaking his head distractedly he looked up to the sky and noticed with wide eyes that it was time for Coralie, daughter of the butcher, to arrive at his house.

'damndamndamn...' he muttered as he sprinted to his house... through the village and up the hill. By the time he reached his doorway he was panting as heavily as a bear in the forest. His fire-coloured hair drenched in sweat, a dark-auburn now, and his shirt untucked and ragged from the wind. Leaning heavily against his door frame he tried steadily to catch his breath. It was only about six minutes wait before Boucher and his daughter arrived in their carriage. Stepping out first was Mesiour Boucher then exited his daughter Coralie.

Coralie was exquisitely dressed. A tight corset with a billowing skirt, fashionable yet undignified enough to be looked down upon if worn out in public. It was scant for a blossoming girl to wear. Scandalous even if she wore it out and about. Her own hair tumbled down her bare shoulders in a drab mousey brown and yet her face looked as if she had stolen if from a painting. So well per portioned and skin as consistent as a field.

With Pyre's disheveled appearance, Coralie feasted upon him with her eyes... Devouring his glistening skin, tussled hair and loose shirt from across the lawn.

Mesiour Boucher sneered in disapproval and with uncaring words he announced that he'd send his carriage for her in the morning and departed.

Within seconds, before Pyre could formally introduce himself, Coralie had lunged at him... seemingly trying to ingest his face and successfully ripping his shirt off.

Backing into the house, Pyre had no chance to escape her.

After doing this charade for years you'd think he would be used to this. But something about tonight didn't settle him. With all the force he had, Pyre pushed the girl from him and held her at arms length. Breathing heavily and trying to regain some sense of composure, Pyre looked at the girl... This lusty girl who was throwing herself into his arms would usually be appealing enough to him... but Pyre couldn't take her...

Within seconds the sun had completely set... The moon revealing itself and glaring down at them both.

Pyre glanced at her again, this Coralie, in the moonlight now. Without warning her dark brown curls seemed to lighten drastically as well as straighten, Her brown eyes and bronzed skin paled and Her height started to shrink as well until her head came to his mid chest.

'Ivy' His mind seemed to whisper.

Without any hesitation his mouth plunged for hers like they were magnetic polarities. The hunger for her touch was returned for him by this girl within Ivy's glamour.

Blindly and with numbed hands, Pyre shuffled for the door handle while clinging to this glamoured-girl for dear life.

He ushered him and his lover inside and slammed the door shut.

This girl obviously didn't need any lessons in love making... but Pyre had no objections to taking advantage of this trick of his mind for this one night.


End file.
